Christmas Once More

 

The scent of pine and cinnamon wafted through the air, wrapping the living room in a warm embrace. Flickering lights twinkled on the tree, casting a soft glow that mingled with the sounds of laughter and nostalgia. It was Christmas Eve at the Harper house, and for the first time in several years, the family had gathered together, each member filled with mirth and memories of childhood days spent in the very same room.

“You remember the snowstorm of ’98?” Charlie said, leaning back into the cosy couch, his eyes glimmering with mischief. “We built a fort in the backyard that could’ve housed half the street!”

Laughter erupted around the room, and his sister Emma chimed in, “And we had snowball fights until Mom called us inside, claiming our cheeks were as red as Rudolph’s nose!”

Their mother, now greyer but still sprightly, emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. “Don’t forget the cocoa! I remember making endless pots of hot chocolate to revive you all after your epic battles.”

As the evening wore on, family members filtered in, bringing presents wrapped in bright paper and adorned with ribbons. It was a tradition to exchange gifts on Christmas Eve, a reminder of the simple joys that filled their childhood. Each heartfelt gift represented not just a physical item, but years of shared memories, laughter, and love.

“I hope you didn’t get me another sweater,” Emma teased her brother, a mischievous grin spreading across her face.

“Only the softest llama wool for my favourite sister,” Charlie shot back, tossing a small box adorned with a bow into her lap.

As she unwrapped the gift, Emma's eyes widened. “You remembered! Oh, Charlie, I’ve been wanting this!”

The festivities continued with each family member sharing their gifts. The thrill of unwrapping and the joy of laughter filled the room. But amid the cheer, a quiet shadow loomed—an empty chair at the dining table.

“Is it time for dinner?” asked Grandma June, her voice wavering slightly. She was the family matriarch, and her resilience was a source of comfort for everyone.

As the table was set with the delicious Christmas spread, the family exchanged glances, their laughter dimming just a touch. Everyone knew who was missing. Just last year, they had gathered around the same table, telling stories of the past, savouring every bite while Uncle Ben held court with his outrageous winter tales.

“Let’s raise a glass to Uncle Ben,” Charlie said, lifting his cup. The other family members followed suit, and silence fell as they toasted the man who had always brightened their family celebrations.

“To Uncle Ben,” they murmured in unison, a bittersweet warmth washing over the room.

After dinner was served, the family settled into the cosy comfort of familiar conversation, yet there was a subtle void where Uncle Ben's laughter should have been. Stories flowed, yet they felt incomplete, cloaked in a shared memory that mingled with the fragrance of roasted vegetables and succulent turkey.

As they moved to the living room for dessert—grandma’s famous trifle – the mood shifted. Emma stood up, brushing crumbs off her sweater. “I thought it might be nice to share a memory about Uncle Ben. Something to remind us of his spirit.”

Everyone nodded, compelled by the idea. One by one, they began to summon their memories.

“Remember when he dressed up as Santa for the local kids?” Emma chuckled, clasping her hands together. “He practically broke his back getting out of the sleigh.”

“He was so proud of that bright red suit,” Mom added, her eyes sparkling. “The children squealed with delight, and he couldn’t stop smiling.”

As stories unfolded, laughter danced back into the room. With each fond recollection, the absent chair began to feel less like a void and more like a spot reserved for Uncle Ben’s spirit – a place where his joyful essence still lingered, reminding them of love that extended beyond presence.

With hearts a little lighter, the family continued their celebration of togetherness, finding comfort in stories, traditions, and memories that would carry them through the ache of loss. Christmas was not just about who was there, but also about those who had touched their lives and were forever part of the story.

As the night wore on, the laughter and joy expanded, filling the Harper home with warmth. They knew, even without his bright smile and hearty laughter, Uncle Ben was watching over them, seated among them in the stories they held so dear. And in that moment, they felt the true magic of Christmas — the bonds of love and the enduring strength of family.

If you enjoyed this story, you might want to look at my recent book – Stories Long Short & Tall.

For further information, send me an email: jebooks2022@gmail.com

John Pearson